Ryan's Post

Hey. I want that straw.

 

THAT ONE. I want it. Can't you people understand me?

 

 

Ignore Jacob. No I won't smile. Just bring me that straw.

 

Fine. I'll get it myself.

Holy Diapers! Finally!

What do you mean be careful I might poke....

 

OUCH! Grandma! Why did you let me have this instrument of terror? I'm just a baby!

 Do me a solid and escort me around the room. (Speaking of solid, I just pooped. But I'll let you continue to think it's just gas for now).

 

 

I said "walk" not "hokey-pokey." FOCUS WOMAN!

 

Don't do it. Don't even think of letting go.

 

SHE DID IT.

 

 

 I'll teach her a lesson by throwing a tantrum on the floor.

 

What?! You can't cut to a picture of my brother right when I'm at the height of my acting skills. Does no one care that I'm having a tantrum? I'm kicking. I'm kicking LOUDER. 

Ok, that's enough. This post is about ME.

 

 

Please tell me he isn't doing that.

 

 

Or that.

 

 

Ugh. I can't look. The only word I want to hear right now is "adopted."

 

 

Only one way to stop the humiliation: distraction.

 

Look! Look people. Over here! I'm doing that thing you guys are always trying to make me do.

 

 

What? Now that you mention it, yeah.

 

 

My strut IS a little flamboyant.

 

 

Hold me now. Ok. One kiss is acceptable. But no double dipping. I don't know how to wipe slobber off my face.

 

 

Wait. Don't leave me alone. Haven't you read ANY parenting books?

Two words: separation anxiety.

But you probably skipped that chapter. Just like you skipped the chapter on not drinking while pregnant. Oh, that was a secret? Who's the parent in this relationship, anyway?

 

 

NOT what I had in mind. I can't decide if I like this attention. I'll get back to you.

 

 

By the way. I kind of pooped. But just a turtlehead. And maybe some poot. (poot: n. when you toot and a little poop comes out.) 

 

 

Wait. Why are we leaving? Is it something I said?